After An Afternoon
by angelgazing
Summary: Joan doesn't get it.


**After An Afternoon   
**

There were certain things that Joan was learning to accept the fact that she would never understand. Why God chose her, of all the people in the world, to talk to and perform menial tasks. The point behind the garage sale was still a mystery to her. Anything at all having to do with AP Chemistry was clearly beyond her realm of understanding, and were it not for Grace and Adam she'd be flunking in a spectacular way that would probably get her grounded. Or smited… smote? 

Anyway, it would lead to very bad things. 

So most of the time she sat in class bored very nearly to tears, Grace on one side of her carving something about hell into the table with a metal ruler and Adam on the other side playing with the end of her scarf or doodling absently. Neither of them appeared to pay any more attention than she did, but somehow they'd end up either doing their assignment or explaining it to her. 

At first it had been a little frustrating, not getting this while they did. Especially considering that by all rights it should be _her_ explaining it to at least one of them. She got that Grace was borderline brilliant and just refused to show it because she had some sort of objection to the workings of the public school system. 

But Adam just baffled her. 

It was easy to understand the reason everyone thought he was a stoner. Had she not seen how hurt he was by realizing she thought so as well she might still not be convinced. He was… flaky. Sweet, soft spoken and an amazing artist, sure. But still flaky. 

The three of them had been in varying degrees of studying for well over two hours, and so far all she knew for certain that she may be the dumb one of this trio, but Grace was going to be the one to cause them all to fail AP Chem. And that Adam Rove was officially on the list of Things Joan Will Never Ever In A Million Years Understand. 

Rolling onto her stomach in the grass, Joan pushed her textbook away from her with just enough force to make it crash into the notebook Adam was doodling in. "Sorry." 

He shrugged just slightly and gave no other indication of having even noticed. Adam was focused, pencil to paper and only with him would it be considered doodling, and even now she only called it that because it was their homework he was drawing on and around. 

Grace was laying on her back, eyes closed, jacket under her head as a pillow and snoring softly. 

So there was little distracting from her current attempt at Figuring Out Adam. It had taken on capital letters and become an event, which was really kind of pathetic, so she tried not to do it often. Right arm crooked, she rested her head on it, managing without trying to get herself into a perfectly innocent position that left her no choice but to study him. It was an improvement over chemistry anyway. 

Elbow on his thigh, chin in his hand, his pencil worked the paper beneath it. Steady strokes, never any doubt in him when it came to art. He somehow managed to be intensely focused and bored all at the same time. 

Spring had finally decided to show up in Arcadia, so the flowers were beginning to bloom and the weather permitted going outside in short sleeves once more. Which is what brought on the surprising revelation that Adam Rove had nice arms. Maybe it shouldn't have been so surprising, a lot of the things he used in his sculptures couldn't be light. So heavy lifting and all that, but nice arms weren't a thing she'd ever associated with him before and even if she had… 

Joan was fairly certain she'd never been a girl that found the term "lickable" applicable. 

"I think there should be a law against assigning homework on weekends when the weather is this nice," she muttered, doing her best to sound very _friend_ and not so much _girl that really likes how your t-shirts fit_. Because there were some thoughts you just shouldn't be having about your best friend. 

"Unchallenged," he murmured, nodding in agreement, eyes and pencil never wavering. 

Which brought her right back to her previous thoughts on just how much of a mystery he was. Grace, her mother, Luke, God even, had all alluded to Adam having some sort of big hidden crush on her. Or, not so hidden if the previous three saw it. But she just couldn't find it. 

Sure, he'd been hurt when she'd thought he was a stoner. He'd been visibly disappointed when she'd not confided in him about the whole God thing like she'd planned. He'd looked at her like she'd kicked his puppy when Clay flirted with her. 

He also made no effort to have a conversation with her ninety percent of the time. Usually when she talked to him he was either drawing or glaring at a text book and offered her only the slightest acknowledgement at having even heard. Plus there was that whole "Jane" thing. 

If there was something she _did_ know it was the first and last name of every boy she'd ever had a crush on. 

So really not getting the whole crush-y vibe from Adam. 

His hair was falling in his eyes as he bent over the notebook in his lap. It gave her the ridiculous urge to push back the curls to see his face. Of course, they'd only fall right back there, so she'd have to do it again at which point it really wouldn't be a casual gesture anymore. If it ever really could be. 

Sometime during his quest to help her find a way to find her boat making talent again—between him walking into the bookstore with her and standing there so willing to listen to whatever she wanted to tell him—she'd accepted that her friend was indeed cute. But cute like babies and puppies. The kind of cute that made you want to hug and cuddle and coo over him and do your best to make sure he never ever got hurt. 

And that was fine, she could handle that kind of cute friend. Even if she'd denied both the urge to protect him from harm and that he was her friend for a while longer. 

She was going to tell him, that God was talking to her and telling her to do crazy ass tasks like build a boat. There was nothing in her—then, or now—that thought for a second that he wouldn't believe her every word. She was going to tell him about the chain of events that started with her joining AP Chemistry and led to her dad arresting the Fire Chief for setting a fire that killed someone. And he would have been awed, amazed, never doubtful. He would have looked at her with wonder, listened to everything she had to say and not once would he think she was crazy. 

But then God popped into the store to discourage her from it. Talked about burdens and worked her newfound need to not cause this boy harm. Kept her from telling him then but it was still always in the back of her mind, how she could spill it all to Adam. Even God had said that Adam would believe her. 

Of course, sending him home instead of confiding in him, though not at all what she would have liked to do, had hurt his feelings. And left her spending far more time than she would have liked wondering what it was she was supposed to do for him. 

Finally having pushed that away she just did her best to be his friend. Failed pretty miserably on more than one occasion. Then of course, spring had permitted jackets and long sleeve shirts shed and she had a new way to obsess about Adam. And it wasn't entirely preferable, thank you very much. 

Because now she wasn't thinking of him so much as her cute boy friend that needed something currently unspecified from her as her hot boy friend that she did. Not. Get. 

He was so smart, but his head was never in the moment. It left a lot of people thinking he was high as a kite, a lot more people thinking he wasn't that bright, and it made her want to know what he was thinking so much sometimes it nearly drove her crazy. 

But he was sweet, talking about her "beautiful boat" when it had been horrible, telling her about the evil of Price and comforting her when she was telling him to go away. Making her a sculpture of a cheerleader for good luck even when it was obvious he was afraid she'd forget all about him if she got in. 

Maybe she would have, but she liked to think she was better than that. 

And had the roles been reversed with the whole Clay thing, had she been the one watching her friend flirting with someone that had just admitted to theft of her personal property then getting blown off… She probably would have found a lot more joy in spelling out the wrongdoing of said flirter. He'd just seemed… supportive. 

Of course, she'd snapped at him, lashed out and refuted his obviously sincere apology at telling her. He'd just given her that look like she'd sucker punched him and looked away. Never fought back when she did that, he never tried to defend himself. 

After the embarrassment had worn off and she didn't feel so stupid for having Adam Rove of all people tell her she was naive and her boyfriend was a jackass, all she'd been able to think of was how Adam had refused to take the bait. How he'd been supportive and honestly concerned for her when in his position she would have been gloating. 

Either he was a far better person than she or just endlessly more patient. Or more observant of the feelings of those around him. He seemed so far away sometimes and maybe it all was really just him thinking over his every move, being more insightful than anyone had ever given him credit for. 

There could be a million reasons why, a million places he went when he spaced and she was struck some times with the need to know each and every one. 

Could be where his art came from, some far off land he ventured to in his mind while the world went on around him. Could be that he just didn't care to listen to the people in his life. Could be so many things and she could never really know. 

Maybe he was observant, maybe he was oblivious to everything around him. If he'd noticed that she'd been staring at him for pretty much the past two weeks he'd given her no indication of it. Although, Grace had started teasing the first damn day and Luke wasn't far behind. 

Her mother had started getting that worried look whenever Adam called again. The one that made it clear she thought they were sleeping together or dating or something more than friends. Which was not true. 

Joan just had to start putting an effort into keeping _lickable_ out of her vocabulary whenever he was within close proximity. 

He mumbled sometimes when he talked, made her lean in a little bit to try and understand better as if getting closer to the words would make them more clear. He'd spout off answers to their homework assignments some times so quickly she couldn't keep up. When he was being comforting, his voice was almost a whisper, made her want to lean into him and learn all his secrets. 

She found herself occasionally occupied with the thought that he probably kissed just like he talked. Slow and softly, sweet and just what she wanted in any given situation. 

Pulling the green grass from the ground absently with her right hand she groaned unhappily then buried her face into the crook of her left elbow. Thinking about Adam kissing was not good. Bad, bad thoughts to be having about your best friend especially when he was right _there_. And she wasn't even clear on when he'd gained the label of best friend anyway, but somehow it was his just the same. 

"Jane?" 

And she could practically hear the little furrow of his forehead as he said her name. 

Only, not her name. Which managed to distract her from Bad Adam Thoughts long enough to prop herself up on her elbows to stare him down. And _when_ had he shifted so he was facing her fully anyway? "Do you even know my name?" she asked, the words coming out far more harshly than she'd planned. 

"Yes," he answered, head bowed toward his drawing once more and the only indication that she hadn't asked him if the sky was still blue that fact that his grip was a just a smidge too tight on his pencil. 

"Cause you spend a lot of time around my house with my family, and we have classes together at school where you hear people say my name, so I think you must know it. I mean, you talk a good game, but you're not stupid." Which was way more of an insult spoken than it had been in her head. "We've been friends for months." 

That, at least, caused him to look at her finally, sincerity etched into his features as he replied, "I know your name." 

"Then why do you call me Jane all the time?" 

Most people when caught doing something wrong would try to deny it, fight it, argue. Lie. Lying was definitely something she'd know to expect from a lot of people in this situation. Or playing dumb, although most people wouldn't think he was playing. 

But this wasn't most people. This was Adam, who _had_ been her friend for months. And who she had spent the past two weeks harboring a crush on. She _knew_ that he must know her name but he still called her Jane and if anything it just confused her more than it had every time before. It was Adam, and she had no idea what to expect. 

The wounded look, the slight edge of maybe uncertainty, those she wasn't surprised to see. It made her feel a little too much like the Wicked Witch of Arcadia for her liking, but it hadn't come as any big surprise to see considering it was his usual response to her hostility. The sudden onslaught of nearly paralyzing fear when she realized she couldn't predict his answer and maybe might not like it? That shocked her. 

"Never mind." Joan was surprised to find herself sitting up, sitting beside him and squeezing his arm slightly in apology. "It doesn't matter." 

He looked over at her with a question in his eyes but seemed, as always, content to follow her lead. 

She leaned into him just a little more, her hand never straying from his arm. Glancing down to see what it was he'd been drawing with such concentration, she found a pencil sketch of herself staring back. Which didn't go well for her hope that her staring had gone unnoticed, but considering that this was Adam he might still not have a clue. "You make me look beautiful." 

"No," he denied with a smile, drawing her eyes to him once more, making her realize he'd been watching her reaction. "You are beautiful." 

Joan blushed and looked away, but she found herself unable to keep from smiling. "I don't get you," she sighed finally, but there was no effort made to move from his side. "Sometimes it's like you aren't on this planet, and other times it's like you see everything around you more clearly than any one else. You know all the right things to say, but you hardly ever talk. I just don't get you at all." 

"It's because no one else does. That's… That's why I call you Jane." 

"Oh." It wasn't an answer she'd expected, but she liked it just the same. So she smiled without really meaning to. "Ok." 

And she didn't get him, but right then she thought she might some day. She'd understand him, help him. Tell him all her secrets and about God and his wacky missions. She'd especially tell him about God as a substitute teacher threatening Price, because he'd really like that. Some day, everything was going to work out. He'd make sense in her head and this crush wouldn't seem like such a ridiculous thing brought on by spring. Some day. 

"So you're not going to make to make it easy, huh?" 

"Cha, it'd take the mystery right out of it." 

She pushed away from him to stretch out in the grass once more. Rolled her eyes even as she smiled and didn't bother searching too hard for a come back. 

Grace—who she was beginning to think could sleep through any number of natural disasters, a Holy war and Luke's alarm clock that sounded like an electronic troll on speed—kept right on snoring and their Chemistry books and homework assignment were forgotten for the moment. Adam flipped to a clean page in his notebook and went right back to sketching her. This time, Joan caught the looks.   
  
  
  


"There's something in the way you laugh   
That makes me feel like a child   
Aspects of life they confuse me   
You and your thesis amuse me"   
-Jason Mraz '_After An Afternoon'_


End file.
